#this book was absolutely fantastic

[feelingtheaster99]

I don’t believe it happens in the books but Percy telling Sally that “he doesn’t get to ignore you” while he’s fine with his dad ignoring Percy himself is extreme book Percy energy

[batvilletv]

Absolute Batman

[starboysbrainrot]

“Poseidon” Said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

[landwriter]

hob gadling being so goddamn normal compared to his anthropomorphic husband, in-laws, and husband's social circle that he circles right back around to being the more sus/shady one OR hob gadling keeps accidentally derailing dream's attempts to be King of Nightmares by horny vibes/going "joke's on you, i'm into it"/"promise?" to any and all threats

Hob isn't normal, is the thing. He's not. He never was. He was smouldering with strangeness and hunger long before his future sister-in-law took one look at him and decided he'd be good for her little brother.

He asked her, once, bit drunk, if that was why she chose him: if she'd heard him forswearing her in the White Horse and looked at him, peered into the contents of his soul, and thought: well, there's one at least as stubborn as my brother - maybe they'll be good for each other. She'd just smiled and waited for Hob to take another sip before saying, "Good? I just thought it would be interesting," and twinkled at him when he sputtered. Hob said older sisters were terrors, and they'd toasted to that.

Whether she'd intended or not, they were good for each other, him and Dream. It took them a little bit to realize, a small handful of centuries holding one another at arm's length for fear of what would be seen any closer. Then they'd crashed together anyways, and it had turned out they were matched not just in that bloody-minded stubbornness to keep a decent thing going, but also in all the intensity they'd tried to smother to do so, the roaring hunger and devotion and need; the both of them strange creatures capable of giving so much and greedy enough to take just as much in kind.

On the outside, though, others see Dream, his distance, his power, the thunder of his voice, and don't see it as the armour it is, the necessary carapace protecting the sort of tender feelings that could scorch the entire earth, because he is a vessel for human emotions that are strong enough to live on in stories and dreams, because he is, in that respect, - and Hob gets choked up about this, if he allows himself to think about it too much - fundamentally more human than him, than all of them, the embodiment of every fantasy and fear and tall tale of men, tending to them each night, taking no rest for himself.

On the outside, others see Hob, his banal humanness, and other humans assume the rest of him is the same, and so do most non-humans, except they're baffled by it, baffled by why he is Dream's husband. So he plays it up, because it's funny, and if they're too incurious or gullible to figure out what lays beneath, then that's alright, because his husband figured it out, and loves him for it, and that's all he needs.

Dream didn't understand at first why Hob acted extra human whenever they mingled with other capital-e Entities and inhuman sorts, but now he finds it so amusing as well that Hob wonders how the gig isn't up from the moment anyone sees his twitching smirk. His husband has a terrible poker face, Hob thinks.

He's much better at pretending. In fact, he's so good at performing the petty normality expected of him that it goes full circle and becomes, somehow, magnetically strange to all the fantastical creatures in his husband's social circle.

He had not realized the heady effect of normal human upon non-humans until the time he had gone to a Samhain 'do in the Underhill, in his formal role as Prince Consort to the Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, first of his name, et cetera, and, rather comfortable with those sort of events by then, which were really not that dissimilar to interdepartmental faculty parties, with all the posturing and alcohol, only far better outfits, had, a bit soused on the fantastic elphin mead, accidentally started talking with a member of the faerie delegation about the football tables. At first he thought he'd committed a faux pas when the faerie just stared at him, slack-jawed, but later that night, he'd found himself surrounded by a cluster of wide-eyed dryads and undine and fae, gratifyingly holding court on why Billy Wright had been such a shite Arsenal manager. Apparently, it was the highlight of the evening.

It also helps grease the wheels of immortal statecraft, which Hob thinks of as something of a secondary benefit to making his husband smile. He would be a fierce bodyguard and soldier for Dream, in a heartbeat, he would curry favour on his behalf with pretty words and eager gladhanding, but what works out best, he's realized, is when important folk approach them to talk shop with Dream, to head it off with warm conversation about things like Tube construction, ABBA, and sausage rolls, until they look thoroughly disconcerted, before gracefully handing them off to his husband.

Whenever the occasion allows it, he'll skip on the finery too (another thing, he thinks, that he only cares about his husband seeing). Once, a baku ambassador, himself arrayed in glorious golden robes that matched his sharp gilt claws, had been so baffled by Hob's appearance on the arm of Dream, in his ratty old jeans and a United jersey he got as a gag gift once (and, on principle, refuses to wear in the Waking) that the chimera had absently agreed with Dream's suggestion for revised quotas on devouring nightmares.

Dream had been so delighted by that victory that he'd pressed Hob up against the front door of their flat in Islington, the moment they got back in, and laid kisses all over the hideous jersey, murmuring that Hob was a fearsome diplomat, and Hob had laughed and said he was only a distraction, then let Dream drag him to the bedroom anyways to thank him for his contribution.

Some see what's underneath, of course, and Hob's just as glad for that too.

The second time they'd had dinner with Crowley and Aziraphale, well past the food and making excellent headway on the rest of the wine, Dream had been called away on urgent business. Hob thought the night would end there, but the moment Dream left, Crowley had leveled an unsober finger of accusation at Hob and said, "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing."

Hob hadn't needed to try and look confused, but then Crowley leaned in and said, conspiratorially and only accidentally hissing a little, "This 'regular bloke' thing, but you're worssse than him, aren't you? Bet you are. Bet anything," and Aziraphale had genuinely emitted a tiny gasp of affront on Hob's behalf, and Hob was too busy laughing to say that he wasn't wrong at all, while Crowley gleefully swiveled around and said "I told you so, angel. S'obvious. Humansss. Not a normal one among 'em."

It was a lovely thing to say, actually, and all too easy for Hob to forget sometimes, being a particularly abnormal human leading a particularly abnormal life. But Crowley knew what he was talking about. He spent far more time with humanity compared to most of the inhuman lot. When Hob had made him promise to keep his secret from the rest of them - humanity's secret, really - and explained why, Crowley had laughed and laughed and laughed. He thinks it's the moment they became proper friends.

Hob isn't normal, is the thing.

But it's fun to don it like ceremonial garb and be an ambassador of humanity twice over: in truth and performance both. It's fun to be exactly what's expected and still disconcert.

And most of all, it's fun to go back home with his husband, to their terribly normal human flat, and curl up together in their terribly normal human bed, and watch Dream's face flush with pride or amusement as he debriefs Hob on what chaos he's wrought this time, intentionally or otherwise, with his terribly normal human presence, and Hob just laughs, then smiles until his face hurts, because Dream is his husband, wholly apart from humanity and still the most human creature Hob has met, and he knows all the ways that Hob feels like both, too.

[ebthestarryknight]

Cringe little wizard with his cringe little personality

[weisbrot]

dear @wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj i have decided to add gavroche and azelma to the marius eponine friendship and have them all enjoy (some more than others) a lil studying/bookclub session 😌✨📚📖📔 Hope you enjoy too!! thank you for chosing such fun prompts for me to work on ☺️

Thank you also to the @drinkwithme-exchange mods who did a wonderful job moderating 💛

#drinkwithme2023

[heir-of-the-chair]

Lowkey hyperfixating now and I’ve come to the devastating conclusion that Jacob the main character of Water For Elephants… doesn’t really have a character arc

[kkoraki]

do you like historical fiction? socialist fiction? feminist fiction? african fiction? science fiction? do you just like good literature? i beg of you, read 1960 historical fiction novel god's bits of wood (les bouts de bois de dieu) by ousmane sembène

on the face it is an account of a 1940s railroad strike in senegal but it's really so much more than that

[driftingballoons]

Is there any media that's left a lasting impact on you?

So I’m going to give two answers, one the obvious, and another bonus answer for variety’s sake :3

Pmd explorers has possibly had the greatest lasting impact on me that any piece of media ever has. As my introduction to pokemon, I felt like I was playing partly as Hero would’ve experienced it—with absolutely no idea what to expect, and no background knowledge of anything. But the way it quickly changed from “heehee creature adventure :3” to “what does it truly mean to live and how can you shine as brightly as you can, even in the face of oblivion?” caught me quite off guard. It really made me start to think about how I could try to make the most of my life, how people’s actions can be hugely shaped by their situations, and how you really can’t take even the most simple of things for granted. I played this at 12 y/o during an otherwise very disruptive/isolated time in my life, so I’m not sure if that’s partly why my brain latched onto this as much as it did, but I genuinely felt like it helped me get through it. Whenever I felt weak or powerless back then, I found inspiration from how strong hero, partner, and grovyle had to be to get through everything, and it felt like it made coping just a bit easier. Fast forward to a much better time in my life, and it’s helped me find a wonderful, incredibly talented online community and friends, and I have an absolute blast being able to interact with you guys and see your takes on the series!

The other piece of media that had a lasting impact was Allie Brosh’s book Hyperbole and a Half. I hadn’t known before reading it, but she actually had a blog of the same name around the early 2010s, where she’d post her funny comics and stories. The part that had the most impact on me was actually her iconic ‘poorly drawn’ MS paint kind of style. It made me realize that you don’t necessarily have to make professional quality art to make something worth seeing. This inspired me not only to start posting my own doodles and stuff online, but also changed my approach when dealing with a lot of daunting things. Whenever I feel like I’m not good enough/skilled enough to try something, I remember how popular her stuff was, despite looking ‘low quality,’ and it reminds me that doing something low quality is better than not doing it at all! 

[gingermintpepper]

Mother Love - Demeter and Persephone in poetry

Alright, so, let's finally talk about Mother Love.

I've spent the past couple of weeks compiling most of the poems from my physical copy of Mother Love into a publicly accessible google doc because there is a quite frankly embarrassing lack of archiving of this particular anthology of Dove's work and I am genuinely and greatly saddened that it is not a work more commonly brought up when discussing Demeter/Hades/Persephone retellings and reinterpretations for modern audiences.

In order to speak about what Mother Love is, I first need to address what it is not. It's not a coming of age story which portrays Persephone as a caged bird under a too-smothering Demeter. It's not a love story where Hades is some valiant hero who rescues an innocent maiden and through his love empowers her to be her truest self. It does not demonise Demeter, who has forever lost her daughter, it does not demonise Hades, who took that daughter away.

Instead, Mother Love is, perhaps, the truest interpretation of the themes of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter that I've seen, down to the structure of the anthology mimicking the hymn's narrative structure. It is the story of a mother who loses her daughter, of the grief that ensues as she worries for her, of her being pitied and given empty words instead of help finding her, of her trying to soothe herself by filling the void with new children that are not her own. It is the story of a daughter who loses her way, who went seeking flowers and was unwittingly caught in the machinations of those in higher positions of power than her, of the kingdom she is promised and refuses, of the changes she goes through in this new, strange world without her consent and how those changes will define her the rest of her life. It is the story of a lonely king overrun with ennui who wants companionship but never asks, of he who tries in vain to tempt with wealth and land and must ultimately yield to the love of a mother. Not even the lord of the dread Underworld can escape that all-consuming mother's love and this was a theme found all over greek mythology and their literature, and it is also the theme that has been unfortunately and miserably lost as we've told and retold the tale of Hades and Persephone time and time again.

Please, please read this work, and if you enjoy it, do consider picking up an actual copy of the anthology. There is so much to be gained from speaking of the Demeter/Hades/Persephone myth as one of nuance and devoid of the unnecessary moralisations and accusations that we habitually foist onto cultural figures and heroes in an attempt to validate our opinions and interpretations to our peers. In my compilation, I did leave out three poems: Breakfast of Champions, Blue Days, Nature's Itinerary, mainly because I did not think they were relevant -- but I'm always open to requests for those poems to be added to the doc if anybody gets curious. Below I've also attached a few of my favourite short poems from this anthology so people can get an idea for the content that is included in the doc.

@gotstabbedbyapen who requested a way to read these poems but could not find them, I sincerely hope you enjoy them <3

[displayheartcode]

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that adult romantansy isn’t for me

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

a darker shade of magic by v.e. schwab. *screams*

[whispers-of-gallifrey]

Lucy sounds so happy in today's Re:Dracula and its breaking my heart

[libraryleopard]

Young adult dystopian/horror novel

A trans boy on the run from an eco-fascist Christian cult that decimated the population by releasing a deadly virus is rescued by group of teens from a local LGBTQ+ center and agrees to help them take down the cult–but he's hiding the secret that he's slowly being transformed into a monster via the bioweapon the cult infect him with

Compelling, intense, and gorey

Explores religious trauma & trans/queer rage

Gay, trans main character; gay, autistic love interest; various queer side characters

[ellieloves2draw]

went and saw the last voyage of the demeter last night! this is not the dracula from that film, but boy howdy am i in a dracula mood now

this guy is loosely inspired by @dross-the-fish’s absolutely fantastic dracula design :]

(ID: a pencil sketch of count dracula from the novel dracula. he is an older man with short, somewhat spiky swept-back hair, pointed ears, thick eyebrows, and a beard. he is backlit and smiling cruelly, showing off his fangs. his irises are slightly glowing. end ID.)

[htylmg]

oh tsats the book you could have been………